It’s a fancy looking, long key, he explained.It’s fashioned of pure gold. If you find it, bring it to my chambers, please.
When he was finished communicating with the head mouse, he turned his attention back to Aria.
“Teach me more contemporary dance,” he asked, wanting to watch her, dance with her, and keep Harper here while the mice searched her room.
His beautiful dancer laughed softly, having no idea that Harper might be the one who took the key. He wouldn’t mention it, especially since he didn’t know yet if she was guilty.
“You already know so many moves,” Aria complimented. “Hmm, let me see now.”
While she thought about what to teach him next, he glanced again at Harper. How would he feel if she had taken the key? Grateful that she was able to help Aria stay longer? Or angry that she hadn’t told them the truth even after knowing how the lost key had affected Aria. If she had the key, he would know how loyal she was to his grandmother.
“Harper,” Aria called to her. “The rendition of the Romeo and Juliet we were practicing was performed to modern ballads. If you would play whatever you think is pretty—”
“One that has nothing to do with the previous topic,” Gray interjected to the violinist, then sat on a step close by to watch.
Aria began in tendu, then into plié and then sprang into a succession of slow, lyrical movements that blended into each other. Her hinge variations showed the power in her movements, while her long stretches into allongé, then arabesque were performed with deliberate delicacy. He took special note of the control of her breath, giving life to her isolations and contractions. She combined it all into an expressive work of art that brought love and passion to life.
Gray found himself on his feet. The longing to go to her and lift her off her feet and into his arms was like nothing he’d ever felt before. His skin tingled and tightened over his muscles with the need to touch her. His blood burned like molten lava through his veins with the desire to bend his body close to hers in a dance that would last forever, ignited by a touch for all time.
Harper stopped playing and stared at him. “There’s something else I haven’t told you. I can sense your grandmother. She’s back here—in this time.”
For a moment his head didn’t register what he heard; the instant it hit him, his heart thrashed so violently in his chest, he grew lightheaded and reached for the wall.
Aria and Harper were there seconds apart.
“Are you alright?” Aria asked, coiling his arm around her shoulder as if she could hold him up. He smiled as if something had just fluttered across his heart.
He remembered what Harper said. His grandmother was back. Emotions roiled through him. Anger vied for preeminence over all the hurt and unforgiveness for leaving him alone. There was only one reason for her to be here. It had to have something to do with Aria.
He stood straighter, taking his weight off Aria’s slight shoulders. “Harper, you’re telepathic.”
“Only with her,” Harper let him know. “And give or take a spirit here and there.”
Gray closed his eyes and shook his head. “Tell her to stay away from me. And she better stay away from Aria too.”
“Gray,” Aria said softly. “I want to speak with her. I want to know if she has seen my family.”
He closed his eyes. Yes, he had to give in to her request. He nodded. “Harper, if she brings Aria home, I want to bid Aria farewell.”
Harper nodded.
Graysoncame Tabby’s squeaky voice in his head.We searched Miss Black’s chambers but did not find any key.
For that, at least, he was grateful. He thanked Tabby and returned his attention to the two women with him.
“Grayson, how can I tell grandmother you won’t see her when she came to see you?”
But he’d only heard one thing. “Grandmother? You call her grandmother. Harper,” his voice was low with growing detachment triumphing over trembling emotions, “are you my aunt? Are you my mother’s sister?”
He noted Aria’s small intake of breath first. She knew about Harper. He wanted to turn to her, but Harper began to speak.
“Yes, I’m your aunt but I consider you my own son, Grayson,” she told him. “I’m your mother, Emma’s sister.”
“Harper,” he said. His expression matched his cool tone, “how much more are you keeping from me?”
“Grayson, I—”
But he’d stopped listening. He’d heard enough—from Harper, at least. He set his gaze on Aria and prayed silently that she wasn’t a part of whatever schemes Harper planned out for his grandmother.